Memory
by 7thstory
Summary: Ken remembers his first mission. Oneshot.


This was written for the 30kisses community on LiveJournal.

There is no actual kissing in it.

It was also fun to write. :laugh:

Warnings: Violence. And angstiness. And no actual slash, but I hope you like it anyway...

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz. It's very sad, but true.

-----_Memory_-----

I can still remember my first mission.

I guess it isn't really one of those things you forget, the first time you kill someone.

His name was Nakamura Ryuji, and he was responsible for the deaths of several of his political opponents. He had clawed his way up to the top using blackmail, extortion and any other means at his disposal. He was not above backstabbing or manipulating people or events to make situations more favorable for him.

He was despicable.

I remember being mildly nervous during the trip to his headquarters, and wondering why I wasn't more afraid. It was surreal; the city lights looked the same as they had when I was still in the J-league. I didn't see how they could, not when I'd changed so much. Shouldn't I at least see them differently, knowing what I now knew?

And then we had arrived.

Kritiker had provided us with appropriate disguises and false identification, making it mercifully easy to infiltrate the building. I don't remember very well how I made my way to Nakamura's office; actually being at the mission site had increased my case of nerves a great deal. I knew already that I was to kill Nakamura as quickly and quietly as possible. Omi would stand guard and ensure that no one prevented me from doing the job, as well as be within hearing range should I need help.

I opened the door silently. Nakamura was standing by a window on the opposite side of the room, his back to the door.

That was when the magnitude of what I was about to do crashed in on me. Seeing the target somehow made it real: this was the man that I was going to kill.

I don't know how long I stood there, unable to move. Then Nakamura turned around, his eyes widening as he saw me, and a sudden rush of adrenaline propelled me forward.

Nakamura reached his desk before I could stop him. He picked up his phone and stabbed at the keypad. "Hello? Hello!" he shouted.

Even knowing that his phone line had been cut, something in me panicked at the noise he was making. I rushed at him, clenching my fists to cause my claws to spring forward.

He slammed down the phone just in time to twist away from my attack. He didn't manage to avoid it entirely; I could see him wince as the blades kissed his shoulder, tearing his suit and scoring four red lines across the skin.

The glistening red of his blood on my bugnuks caught me, and I was frozen again, this time in horror. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw Nakamura coming at me. My training kicked in, and I was lost in the fight.

The solid _thunk _of my claws against flesh brought me back to myself. I'd caught my opponent in the chest, just below his heart, and he was staring at me in shock and pain as his lifeblood ran down my wrists.

I jerked my arm upward, and the life left his eyes in a spray of crimson.

Dazed, I stumbled back to the door, trying not to look at the body, or at the red pool already staining the carpet. I was wet to the elbows with Nakamura's blood. _Can't leave stains,_ I thought, vaguely and irrationally, and nudged the door open with my foot.

"Bombay...?" I croaked.

No reply. I cleared my throat. "Bombay?"

He rounded the corner. "Siberian! Are you all right?"

I nodded numbly. He ushered me into a nearby empty office and helped me out of my bloodstained jacket and bugnuks. He stashed the jacket in a closet, where it hopefully wouldn't be found for some time, and wrapped the bugnuks in cloth to hide them and slid them into the pockets of his own jacket to be taken home for cleaning.

I can barely remember our escape from the building or the journey back. All I know is that it's a miracle I didn't crash, since my mind was somewhere else entirely.

When we arrived at our Kritiker-provided apartments, I went inside immediately. I closed the door quietly behind me, and then collapsed against the wall next to it, sliding to the floor. I stared down at my hands, breathing carefully as my thoughts buzzed blankly at me.

Something wet dripped onto my hand, and I realized with a start that there were tears on my cheeks. I didn't feel sad.

I didn't feel much of anything, right at that moment.

A knock at the door. "Hidaka-san?" Omi. Unsurprising, really. His apartment was right next door to mine.

More knocking. "Hidaka-san, I'm coming in, all right?" I heard the door open slowly, but didn't bother to look up. I watched his feet as he walked into the apartment and stepped over my leg to stand in front of me. He knelt and tried to look me in the face. I kept my eyes trained on my hands, avoiding his gaze.

"I thought that I should come and see if you were all right," he said softly, "since tonight was your first mission." He paused. "Do you need anything?"

I raised my head, and he gave a sad little "oh" of something that wasn't quite surprise as he saw the tears still slipping down my face. He looked lost; I wanted to tell him that it was all right, that he didn't have to do anything for me, but I couldn't seem to make myself speak.

Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a thumb under my left eye, tracing through the moisture gathered there.

"I can't...I can't tell you that it's all right," he said, his voice quiet and tentative. "I've been there. I know it isn't. But I can talk about it with you, if you want." He took a deep breath. "Not right now, though. I think you should sleep now, Hidaka-san."

He helped me to my feet. "Ken," I managed to mumble. It was ridiculous for him to be so formal with me; I didn't deserve even the most meaningless gestures of respect from anyone, much less someone who knew I had been elbow deep in human blood not an hour ago.

He smiled slightly and nodded. "Ken-san."

I found that I couldn't summon the energy to correct him; I was suddenly exhausted. I shuffled toward my bedroom door. As I put my hand on the knob, about to open the door, his voice stopped me.

"Will you be okay?"

I nodded, and he smiled again, quickly, before turning and making his way to the door. He stepped out of the apartment, and looked back as he closed the door.

"Good night, Ken-san."

I think I tried to smile. I can't remember if it worked. At any rate, the next second, he was gone. I entered my room, fell into bed, and, still in my clothes, I slept.

---

The quality of the light pouring in my window when I woke told me that it was late morning. I blinked at it for a moment before realizing how dirty I felt, and went to take a shower. After I was dry, dressed and feeling somewhat more presentable, I left my apartment and went to stand in front of Omi's door. I couldn't quite bring myself to knock, but I couldn't quite leave, either.

The decision was made for me when Omi pulled open his door and smiled cautiously at me. "Good morning, Ken-san," he said, stepping back from the doorway. "Come in?"

I followed him inside and sat down in the chair he indicated at his kitchen table. A moment later, a mug of something warm was placed in front of me, and Omi sat down himself. "Hot chocolate," he told me, and then he was silent. He seemed to be waiting for me to speak, and while there were many things I wanted to ask, I didn't know how.

What came out instead was, "How did you know I was in the hall?"

"Ah," he said. "Well, I thought you might come over. When I heard footsteps in the hall, ones that stopped right outside my door, I just figured it was you."

The kitchen was quiet for a few moments. I sipped my cocoa as I tried to frame the question I wanted to ask. Omi waited patiently.

Finally, "How do you do it?"

He knew I wasn't talking about recognizing people's footsteps.

"They have to be punished," he told me. "People like Nakamura, the ones who know what they're doing, are untouchable if they're really good at what they do. I can't stand that."

I waited.

"I guess..." he gathered his thoughts. "I guess that I've decided that I don't mind going to Hell as long as I can drag as many of them as possible with me."

I absorbed this quietly. Then I asked the question that I really wanted answered.

"Do you...do you ever worry that maybe Kritiker gets it wrong?"

"You can't _ever_ think that," he answered, quickly and fiercely. "Not if you want to survive in this business. If you second-guess your jobs, you'll go insane." Then his tone lightened a bit. "Besides, Kritiker does very careful research before sending anyone on a mission. There are entire teams devoted to fact-finding. They know what they're doing when they send us; it's too serious a decision to make uninformed. Persia knows that."

I nodded. "Thanks," I said sincerely. "I needed to hear that."

We didn't say much else, and I left after finishing my hot chocolate.

I've tried to take his advice to heart. I think he's right. You won't survive these jobs if you have doubts.

And so I try not to think about the lives these people had. Their families--whether they had spouses and children who missed them when they never came home. I try not to wonder what they were like as kids, what their hobbies were, what they dreamed of doing. I try not to think about the friends that they possibly had, ones that might have shared their probably happy childhoods. I try not to wonder how they ended up the way they did, what it was that led them into their lives of crime. Most of all, I try not to wonder whether they were really guilty.

Some of the time I succeed.

---_owari_---

For anyone who wondered, I wrote this story based on the assumption that Ken and Omi might have gotten missions before Yohji and Aya joined Weiß, and that Omi had probably done missions before Ken joined him. I have no idea if this is true, nor do I know for sure that I'm right about the order in which the Weiß members joined the team (as far as I've heard, it was Omi, then Ken, then Yohji, then Aya,) but pretend that it's true for this story. Or consider it AU, if you like.

Hope you liked it!

Ambika-san


End file.
